


i'm stuck on your heart

by sameboots



Series: The 'Kiss Me' Series [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-10 02:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19489513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sameboots/pseuds/sameboots
Summary: The 1980s Dance Club First Kiss AU absolutely no one asked for.--“Was Jaime an ass again? I thought you were getting along now.”“We are,” Brienne insisted, but her voice was more fragile than she’d like. Sansa looked even more suspicious. “We’re getting along fine. It wasn’t Jaime. I -- I just wasn’t feeling well.”“I don’t believe you.” Sansa stared at her. When Brienne didn’t respond beyond blinking, Sansa sighed. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone. For now.”





	i'm stuck on your heart

**Author's Note:**

> I will start with a mild content warning: Tormund is handsy in this in a way one might expect a man with boundary issues to be in a dance club. However, I cannot promise it won't be triggering in terms of grabbing and groping unwantedly.
> 
> This is part 2 of my 'First Kisses' series I'm using to tide people over between WIPs. 
> 
> Thank you to a speedy beta from bethanyactually!
> 
> Title is from Tina Turner's 'Simply the Best'

“You look like a poodle.”

Brienne whirled around to find Jaime Lannister standing behind her. 

“What the fuck happened to your head?” 

Brienne tugged at one of the many corkscrew curls springing from her head. “Sansa.”

“Ah.” Jaime tilted his head like a golden retriever. “It looks awful.”

That stung. Not that Jaime was ever very nice to her, but after the first time they met, when he realized that insulting her looks genuinely hurt her (she was never great at masking her true feelings), he’d found myriad other ways to tease and taunt her that had nothing to do with her unfortunate appearance.

“I’m aware of that,” Brienne mumbled. “Unfortunately, it’s a perm so I’m stuck with it.”

“Shame.” Jaime’s eyes flicked up and down her body. “I like that color on you, though. It matches your skin when I piss you off.” As if on cue, a brutal flush flooded Brienne’s skin to match the hot pink of her shirt. Jaime laughed. “Yes, just like that.” 

“Brie!” Sansa ran up to them both, a blur of teased auburn bangs and bright aquamarine. “You have to come dance with me!” 

Sansa dragged Brienne out to the floor. Brienne did not dance as a rule. It wasn’t that she couldn’t, she simply didn’t. She didn’t like the eyes of an entire dance floor turned to her simply because she was taller than the average woman. 

She’d been on the floor all of two minutes, half-assedly swaying, when she felt hands on her hips. She jolted and spun around to find a man a solid head shorter than her, blazing red hair cut into a mullet long enough that the bottom rested between his shoulder blades, and a truly garish neon jacket. 

He grabbed her hips again, jerking himself to her. Brienne set her hands on his shoulders and shoved. 

“C’mon, sexy,” he yelled over the pounding music. He swiveled his way toward her in what she presumed was meant to be a seductive manner. “Just one dance. It’ll change your life,” he said, hips thrusting.

She blanched and stepped as far back as she could, which was not far on the crowded dance floor. 

Brienne panicked and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I’m here with someone.”

“I’m better!” 

Brienne didn’t know whether he meant a better dance (doubtful), a better -- lover (definitely false), or something that only made sense to this asshole.

She looked desperately around the club for a means of escape. Her eyes landed on Jaime, leaning against the bar, sipping on some amber liquid much too classy for this place. She stepped around the mulleted man, pushing her way through the crowd as fast as she could, paying no mind to where her elbows landed.

Jaime looked up when she reached him, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw the frantic look on her face. 

“Play along,” she said breathlessly. 

Brienne leaned down and pressed her mouth to his. It was awkward. Jaime was already shorter than her, and leaning against the bar not only put him at an angle, but made him even shorter. She could feel him freeze for a moment, so she grabbed him around the waist and stepped in.

And then. Oh, then he kissed her back furiously. Far harder than she expected, his hand going around the back of her neck, and holding her in place as he straightened to his full height and went on the balls of his feet to draw himself even closer. He licked her bottom lip, startling her so that her mouth opened immediately, his tongue pressing in and sliding along her own.

She gasped and gripped him tighter. It wasn’t until his hand drifted down her spine, over the small of her back to grab her ass and pull her hips into his that she tore her mouth away. They were both breathing heavily into the same small space. Her heart tripped in her chest, pulse throbbing in her ears. 

Brienned gaped at him, at his swollen mouth and dazed expression.

Then she ran away, ignoring his voice calling her name.

She was already opening the door to the taxi she had hailed when Jaime burst through the crowd still waiting in line to get into The Red Keep. “Brienne!” he called out to her. 

Brienne looked at him for a long moment, his chest heaving, hair disheveled even more than the normal artful disarray. She couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes, the confusion layered with something else. She looked away and ducked into the cab, leaving him on the sidewalk to stare after her. When they stopped at a sign two blocks away, she looked out the back window to find him still standing there watching.

\--

“C’mon,” Sansa whined, leaning over Brienne’s work desk. “Just tell me what happened at the club.”

“Nothing.” Brienne refused to look up from the paperwork in front of her. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking at anymore. It was all a blur of black print on white paper as Sansa’s line of questioning threw her right back to Friday, to Jaime’s lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth, his hand on her --

“I don’t believe you.” Sansa contorted herself lower, her head close to Brienne’s desktop and blocking her view of her work, forcing Breinne to finally meet her eyes. “You disappeared out of nowhere and Jaime spent the rest of the night looking shellshocked.” 

“I wasn’t feeling well.” Brienne could feel the flush creeping up her neck. 

Sansa squinted her eyes at Brienne. “Was Jaime an ass again? I thought you were getting along now.”

“We are,” Brienne insisted, but her voice was more fragile than she’d like. Sansa looked even more suspicious. “We’re getting along fine. It wasn’t Jaime. I -- I just wasn’t feeling well.” 

“I don’t believe you.” Sansa stared at her. When Brienne didn’t respond beyond blinking, Sansa sighed. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone. For now.”

\--

Brienne somehow escaped further questioning from Sansa. She also managed to avoid Jaime for the entire week following The Incident, which wasn’t that difficult. They didn’t see each other very often. Their encounters were always a by-product of Sansa and Tyrion. 

Sansa and Tyrion both had a habit of inviting either Jaime or Brienne to a movie or dinner and ‘at the last minute’ having to invite the other to keep the numbers even. Once or twice, Brienne had allowed herself to be suspicious, but then she would see herself in a mirror, or, even worse, she would see Jaime Lannister with his perfect golden hair and chiseled jaw and twinkling eyes and be reminded of how ludicrous it was to think that anyone would try to matchmake the two of them.

Brienne left work Friday with visions of a perfect weekend at home alone on her couch dancing in her head. She’d already put off Sansa including her in any plans by claiming that she still wasn’t feeling completely up to snuff. 

But then she stepped out the front doors of the office to find Jaime leaning hipshot against the side of his car, sunglasses perched on his face, arms crossed over his chest. He looked delicious. She felt nauseated. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked sharply, gripping her purse handle tightly enough her knuckles turned white. 

Jaime pushed the sunglasses atop his head and walked toward her like -- like he was the predator and she was his prey. Her heart beat faster the closer he got, so hard by the time he came to a stop she worried it might burst right through her ribs. 

“I like you.” He said it simply, factually. 

“Okay?” Brienne stared at him, confused. “You came all the way to my work to tell me you like me?”

“I like you.” She blinked at him rapidly. Surely he wasn’t -- no. He stepped closer until he was mere inches from her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body. “I’ve liked you for a while now.” 

“I’m not sure what --”

Jaime kissed her, cutting off her question. It was a quick, hard press of his mouth, too much teeth and dry lips. And, implausibly, wonderful.

He pulled away just as suddenly as he had kissed her, a frantic, worried expression on his face. Like he half-expected her to slap him and storm off.

“Oh.” Brienne felt as if she were floating above her body, mind racing as she processed -- “You mean you like me?”

Jaime rolled his eyes, but the look on his face was affectionate. He grabbed one of her hands and pulled her a little closer. “Yes, Brienne. I like you.” He waited for a moment, thumb rubbing across her knuckles and sending a shiver down her spine. “Do you like me?”

“Well, yes, of course,” Brienne said, biting down on her lip. “I -- yes. I like you, too.”

Jaime grinned at her broadly. This time, instead of diving at her lips awkwardly, he moved closer until their bodies were flush against each other. He gazed up at her, grinning broadly, eyes sparkling in that way that always made her stomach feel fluttery. 

“Good,” he said simply.

This time when he kissed her, it wasn’t the passion and heat of the club, it wasn’t the awkward dry press of lips, it was soft and lovely and sweet. She couldn’t help but smile into it and kiss him back.  



End file.
